Page 43 of I Could Be Yours

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Tristan asks.

“I’m not telling you until tomorrow.” I don’t trust him or any of the other guys not to blab to their girlfriends and wives.

“What about a hint?” Roman asks.

“No hints.”

“What time do we have to be awake?” Flip asks.

“We won’t leave the hotel until eleven.” I planned it so we could have fun tonight and not regret it too much tomorrow.

The bartender arrives with drinks.

“Okay. How about a round of Never Have I Ever? I’ll go first.” It’s been ages since I’ve played a drinking game. “Never have I ever gone more than a year without sex.” I take a swig of my beer.

“Wait, you drank. Does that mean you have or haven’t gone more than a year without sex?” Flip asks.

“Ihavegone without it.”

“We’ve all gone without sex for more than a year if you count all the years prior to losing our virginity,” Dallas says.

“I mean in the last decade,” I clarify.

Both Roman and Hollis drink, then side-eye each other. It must be really fucking weird to have your best friend in a relationship with your daughter.

“You’ve gotten action since you and Lisa broke up, haven’t you?” Tristan asks.

“Of course.” I scoff. I don’t need to tell him it only happened recently, or that it was a handy provided by Rix’s best friend. There was one night at a bar just after Lisa and I broke up, but it ended badly, and there was definitely no sex. I’m just glad I moved back to Toronto, so I’ll never run into that woman again.

Flip frowns. “Really? Because you’ve been living with me foralmost a year, and I’m pretty sure you’ve never gone on a date or brought anyone home.”

“You’re on the road half the year. You don’t know what happens when you’re gone.”

“Yeah, but Dred would tell me if you brought someone home. She worries about you, honey bear.”

“This is supposed to be a drinking game, not a psychoanalyze-Nate game,” I snap. “Tristan. Your turn.”

“Check out this picture of a mousse cake in the shape of a peach Bea just sent me.” He shows the table his phone.

“Dude, this is supposed to be a boys’ weekend.” I slap the table to get their attention. “Put your freaking phones away! You can handle a few hours of separation from your girlfriends and wives.” I make meaningful eye contact with everyone, then check my watch. “We should hit the club.” Hopefully that will distract these guys enough to keep them off their phones and in the freaking moment.

Flip pays the tab, and we finish our drinks, then head to the club—conveniently attached to our hotel—where I’ve reserved table service.

The bass is pumping, forcing us to yell over the music to hear each other. The dance floor is crowded with gyrating bodies. We climb the stairs to the VIP lounge, and I’m hit with a wave of emotion.

Annoyance is the first thing to wash through me, followed by unsettling relief. Because sitting front and center are the girls. And in the middle of them is Essie.

As much as I don’t want them to keep hijacking our weekend, I also don’t love the idea of them partying it up without a bodyguard or two. Sure, they can handle themselves, but I feel infinitely better knowing we’re here as backup.

And tonight, they look like they might need it. Essie has changed into a sparkly, pale pink number that hugs every curve of her magnificent body. Her long hair is now pinned up, so it spills down her back in waves and exposes the elegant curve ofher neck. Her eyes are rimmed in dark liner and her lips are a glossy pink. I already know they taste as good as they look.

“You didn’t plan this, did you?” Flip asks.

“Nope. I sure didn’t.”

“Seems like the universe might be trying to tell you something.”

I give him a questioning look.

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